


A Gift of Self

by tryslora



Series: Unending [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dildos, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Magical Sex Toys, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco knows what he wants for his birthday. Harry knows it will push his limits in all the best ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift of Self

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift for capitu as a reward for correctly guessing which fic was mine in hd_holidays. It is also a new part of the Unending series (and is actually the earliest in that timeline so far).
> 
> As always, JK Rowling owns the world and characters of Harry Potter; I just like to play with them.

“It’s my birthday.” Draco leaned back in his chair, tilting it slightly, his legs stretched out in front of him. He steepled his fingers, thumbs pressed to his lip, tips of his fingers tapping his nose. “And I’ve decided on my gift.”

“I took you out for an expensive dinner,” Harry pointed out, touching the table between them. After two hours and six courses, plus a bottle of very expensive wine, and equally expensive after dinner liquor, Harry was glad he had vaults of money. 

“Thank you.” Draco was nothing if not polite, but he still had something in mind. Harry could tell by the way his eyes glinted. That glint always meant Draco had a plan that was sure to embarrass Harry thoroughly, possibly risk his career, and yet would also be absolutely mind-blowingly amazing.

They had only been together for six months, but already Harry knew that Draco’s ideas were inventive and sometimes a bit terrifying. He also knew that he wouldn’t say no and that Draco was just waiting for his agreement.

One pale eyebrow lifted in question, and Harry sighed. “Whatever it is, yes. You know I’ll do it. As long as it doesn’t damage me or anyone else.”

“Leave your money for the waitress, Potter.” Draco stood, then held Harry’s chair to pull it out for him. “You and I are going home.”

Harry did as Draco asked and followed him out, taking his arm and letting Draco Apparate them both to his flat. It was easy to let him take control; it was something Draco did naturally, and it felt good for Harry to just relax for a while and not have to be in charge.

As the door closed behind them, Draco caught Harry in a kiss, pushing him back up against the wall. “Do you trust me, Potter?” he murmured, mouth sliding from lips to jaw to throat.

Harry groaned, his hands on Draco’s shoulders, unable to move any further, wedged as they were. “Fuck. Of course I do, Malfoy. I’m here, aren’t I? What’re you thinking?”

“Will you do anything I say, without reservation or question?”

The tone was serious, far more serious than Harry expected, and the lilt at the end of the question fell flat, as if it wasn’t a question at all. Draco expected him to say yes. 

Harry managed to get his hands between the two of them and push enough to make space between them, so he could see Draco’s face. “What’s going on, Draco?”

“Have I ever hurt you?” Draco’s hands came up frame his face. Harry shook his head, and Draco continued. “Have you enjoyed what we’ve done? The dance floor at the club? The gardens? Climbing the tree, or the time on the balcony?”

Sex in public the first time they’d met. Sex under the stars trying not to scream lest the elder Malfoys hear them. A blow job perched precariously in a tree, or being fucked while leaning out over a balcony in France with the streets below. Harry had enjoyed them all. “You’ve never hurt me, and yes, I enjoyed all of it,” he admitted. “And yes, I trust you. So yes.” The words caught a moment in his throat, slightly choked when they finally came out. “Whatever you say, I will do it. Without reservation.”

“If you change your mind at any time, say _Aardvark_.”

Draco’s expression was so serious that it confused Harry. “Aardvark?”

“It’s a Muggle animal.” There was small smirk at that, showing Draco’s pride in _knowing_ a Muggle animal. “And not something you’re like to call out when I’m fucking you, at least I’d rather hope it’s not. I’d considered using _Ferret_ , but thought that might have some strange associations in your mind.”

“I once read a story where the bloke’s prick was quite talented, and when his lover felt it inside of her, she called it his ferret,” Harry offered with a laugh, knowing that wasn’t what Draco meant.

“Hush.” Draco’s hands slid into Harry’s hair, tangling and twisting, holding him in place as Draco’s mouth plundered his until he was left breathless. “You are _mine_ , Potter. Tonight, I will do with you as I please. Anything. Everything. Whatever I can imagine, you will take because you have given yourself to me.”

Harry’s breath stuttered in his chest. “Anything,” he echoed as the kiss ended. Knees shaky, he leaned into Draco’s grip, letting the other man hold him up. 

“We’ll start simply. On your knees.” When Harry hesitated, Draco’s voice rose, snapping sharply, “On your knees, Potter. I don’t want to have to repeat myself tonight.”

Harry sank to his knees in shock, the impact of them against the floor jarring through his bones. “Draco—”

“Very good.” Draco crouched in front of him, elbows on his knees for balance. “Next time we go out, I think I shall give you instructions for how I should like you to dress,” he mused. “Unfortunately, this time we shall have to make do. Remove your clothing, Harry, and place everything neatly upon my dresser.”

They were in the living room, and Harry was on his knees. He started to rise, but Draco stopped him with a hand on his head. “No, Harry, you will stay on your knees. You are a wizard; I’m quite certain you can manage to figure out how to do this without standing.”

There was something in Draco’s voice, some tone, that Harry latched on to. Draco was giving orders, and Harry was taking them. Orders meant he didn’t need to think, or rather, he _only_ needed to think about what Draco told him to do: remove his clothes without standing, then place them neatly in another room. He breathed in and let everything else go, shoving out the thoughts that crowded his mind on a daily basis. The world narrowed down to here and now and _this_.

It was freeing. Tension slipped from his shoulders and Harry’s eyes closed for a moment as he exhaled out the pressure of his life. The spells came to mind and he vanished the clothing from his body, recalling it again and neatly folding it before sending it into Draco’s room. When he was done, he set his wand by his side, and his hands on his knees, and he waited.

Before long there would be another instruction. He trusted Draco.

His eyes drifted closed as he waited, listening. He could hear footsteps, but he wasn’t sure where Draco was. It was like an Auror training exercise… _no_ , no it wasn’t. Not at all. Harry pushed the thought of the Aurors from his mind as he tension slipped back into his shoulders. This wasn’t about the Aurors, and it wasn’t about Harry being in control. It was about Draco and him and that was all.

His muscles eased slowly as footsteps approached. A light touch threaded through the top of his hair. “Very good, Harry,” Draco murmured. “I like the closed eyes; it’s a lovely touch. Keep them that way.”

Harry nodded his assent, letting himself feel instead of see. Fingers drifting through his hair, down to the back of his neck. Over the curve of his shoulder, then stroking along his spine. He arched into it, wanting more than the featherlight touch that almost tickled, but Draco retreated when he did. Harry whined softly under his breath; Draco’s fingers fell hard against his bum.

Pain blossomed in a rush of heat. Harry struggled to find words; he should be outraged. But Draco had one hand over the heat of his bum, the other under his chin, holding him firmly in place. “Do not move,” Draco told him. “I will touch you as I please, and is your job not to move. I will not strike you for involuntary reactions. I fully expect your prick to get hard. But if you wiggle, or whine, or otherwise _beg_ for my attentions, you will be punished.”

This was more than Harry expected, more than he could quite assimilate. Draco didn’t give him time, another smack warming his arse when he didn’t respond.

“Do you understand, Harry?” Draco asked sharply.

“Yes.” He didn’t nod, not daring to move even his head. His hands were clenched pressed down against his thighs. His legs were slightly parted, his cock half-hard as it hung between his legs.  He breathed in and relaxed, feeling the ease of it as Draco’s hand quested lower, sliding between his cheeks to tease his arsehole. His fingers were dry, and he was puckered tight, but he was sensitive too. He bit his lip, breathing harshly as he tried not to move as he was stroked lightly. Barely there, like a bit of silk sliding over sensitive skin.

“Lean forward.”

A slight push against his shoulder, and Harry obeyed without question, falling forward onto his hands, bum in the air. His spread knees opened him to Draco’s touch, and he felt the pad of a thumb against the tight ring, circling it lightly. Head bowed, Harry floated, letting himself be touched.

The lube, when it stroked over him, was warmed by a charm, slick and hot and letting Draco’s thumb slip inside, opening Harry. When he rocked slightly, pressing back to take more of it, Draco struck him again, and Harry moaned as that heat blossomed. 

It felt good. He never would have thought that, never would have expected that being _hit_ could be a good thing.

“I don’t want to punish you,” Draco murmured. “But I do need to know that you can do as you’re told, Harry. All I am asking is for you to stay still until I tell you that you can move. Fold your arms, lean on your elbows. Let your head rest against the mattress. That will give you more stability. And open for me as much as you can.”

Harry did so. With his head against the mattress, he was curled into a small space, his breath recirculating warmly as it hit his arms. He felt a little dizzy from it, and tried not to sway. The world seemed to be getting smaller and smaller with every breath.

The spell to cleanse him was a shock, sliding inside of him coldly, leaving him shivering. But Draco followed it quickly with hands against his arse, opening him so that his tongue could stroke over his hole. Warm and slick, pressing into him, making him relax and open up. He couldn’t help but move, but every time he did there was another slap against his thigh, his bottom, his back. Harry felt those places burning and slowly let go, sinking into a space of sensation where there was nothing but wet tongue and sharp stinging.

When something stretched him wide, he expected the warm yield of Draco’s cock, not something thicker and somehow harder. It pushed in, stroking deeply inside of him with slow movement until it settled and stopped. Then it began a slow motion: barely pulling out, pushing in, pulsing gently as if it grew thicker and thinner with every stroke. Harry whined, and Draco was in front of him, lifting his head to kiss him.

“Open your eyes,” murmured Draco.

A mirror hung before Harry’s gaze, positioned so that he could see the reflection of his own back. The cock that slid into him was fake, thick and huge and brightly colored. He could see the glistening of lube around it, could see how his hole gaped when the cock narrowed just before pushing in hard again. “Oh fuck, Draco.”

“You have one rule tonight,” Draco said. “You may not come until I tell you to do so. No matter how much you wish to, no matter how desperate you are, you _must_ hold back.”

It didn’t sound difficult. Harry was young; he could manage more than once in a night, but he also had staying power. Sometimes. Not usually with Draco, however. There was something about Draco that made Harry ache. “I will,” he said, promising, body arching into the cock that fucked him. “I want to suck you.”

Draco smirked gently. “Soon. Let’s finish getting you settled first.”

He reached under Harry, stroking lubricant over his prick. He spilled more onto the sheets, then with a wave of his wand the sheets started to slide along Harry’s prick, acting in place of his hand. Harry arched, swaying between the cock and the stroking. 

“Merlin,” Harry breathed, then he couldn’t say anything else, his mouth full of Draco pressing in.

There was nothing left for him but to give himself to sensation, fucked twice over and fucking at the same time. He swayed, thrusting his hips into the sheets that wrapped, tight and slick, around him. He could barely breathe around the thick cock that filled his mouth, Harry’s throat opening to let Draco in as much as he could take. His world went grey and he moaned, the sound from far away as he rocked between all the sensation. Whimpered. Begged silently, his balls heavy, his prick aching with need.

“Please.” The word was muffled, impossible to understand, but Harry had to ask anyway. Beg. “ _Please_.”

Nothing. No response, just Draco’s groans as he fucked Harry’s mouth. Eyes closed, Harry inhaled, took in the musk, the heat. Bitter and salt dripped in his mouth and Harry whined. Draco’s movement stuttered, going too deep and Harry choked. The world went red around the edges, and he felt his soul drop away, letting go. He couldn’t resist, couldn’t fight any more. He had become a receptacle. A thing that Draco cherished, soft words as hands threaded through his hair, at odds with the heavy strokes. And Harry wanted more than anything to please him.

“That’s it Harry, your mouth is so good.” Draco groaned as he thrust once more, spilling hot, bitter fluid, forcing Harry to swallow. Draco pulled back and Harry gasped, sucking in sweet, cold air before Draco’s mouth claimed his.

“Are you close?” Draco murmured. “Does it hurt?”

Harry gasped, nodding, unable to speak.

“Do you want to come? Would you do anything?” Draco brushed kisses along Harry’s throat, fingers light along his side and back. Harry loved the feel of it, the emotion in it, bleeding out with every touch. He whined softly, begging.

“Do it for me,” Draco ordered. “ _Now_ , Harry. Come for me _now_.”

Harry’s gut twisted, body bucking as the words sliced into him, as he _reacted_. His balls were tight, orgasm shocking as he went taut, thrusting forward, spilling into the sheets. It left him shaking, shivering, and Draco gathered him in, holding him tight and giving him warmth.

“That was perfect, Harry,” Draco whispered. “So perfect. You were good.” His hand slid over Harry’s cheek, gentle and comforting. “You’re mine. You only let go like that for me.”

Harry couldn’t think of anyone else he trusted as much to behave the way he did for Draco. “I’m yours,” he replied, voice firm but soft. “I’m _yours_.” There wasn’t anything else Harry _could_ be. It had only been six months, but he was certain, this was where he belonged. 

Draco tugged, helping Harry stretch out on the bed with him, vanishing the soiled sheets and replacing them with a thick blanket to warm them both. Harry curled close against his lover and just in case it had been missed, he kissed Draco’s shoulder with a smile. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly. “I’m yours.”


End file.
